Gone
by Rtymis Socrates Pendragon
Summary: Each Character's reactions to Leo's passing.
1. AnnaBeth

Rating: K

Disclaimer: I don't own the West Wing or any of its characters.

Author's note: This, I hope is chapter one of what will become Chaps for all of the main characters, and some of the not so main characters.

**Gone**

Annabeth

Her blue eyes were streaked and stained with mascara smudged from crying, as she stood at the bathroom mirror. The agonizing pain of the last few hours had settled as a dull ache in her chest, as she thought of all that needed to be done. There were people who needed to be called and arrangements to be made. There was paperwork and preparations, and all the otherminutia of death; each and every one a new kind of agony as the mundane details of life dared to intrude on this least mundane of human activities: grief. As if the world mocked your pain, by reminding you that it was still here. Earth still turned in all of its glorious dullness. Life would go on without him; _your_ life would go on without him, whether you wanted it to or not. She sniffled and dug into her purse for one of the moist towlettes she kept there tofixher make-up on the trail. Those days that Leo had loved, when they had to catch cat-naps on the bus or the plane because they didn't have time to stay at a hotel between campaign stops. When you changed your clothes and refreshed your hair and make-up in the cramped bathroom of the bus, or in the stalls at a public rest stop. _I know I have one in here somewhere_, she thought to herself as she dug through make-up and pens and her wallet. Then, buried under some Kleenex packets, she found the watch. Leo's watch; the one she had taken from him. She held its cold weight in her hand as she remembered another day she had held it in her hand, when it had been, notcold, but warm, from his wrist, and knew that it would never know that warmth again, that she would never know that warmth again. She would never againfeel his hand brush hers as passed him a memo, or squeeze itin triumph, or pat her shoulder as he wished her goodnight. Would never see this watch glinting on his wrist as he shook someoenes hand. Instead itlay inher own hand, cold, andcounting off the seconds as if nothing had changed, ticking off each new second that didn't have him in it. And the dull ache sharpened once more into the stabbing pain that brought tears to her eyes, as she thought of how stupid she had been to take any of those moments for granted


	2. Donna

Donna

The Texas night air was dry and cool against her tear-streaked face. "Leo." She whispered his name as if it was a prayer and maybe it was. Her heart ached for her loss and for Josh's loss, which she knew was greater than hers. He loved him like another father. And so she had put aside her own grief for awhile to comfort him. But now, alone, with Josh distracted by the Election, she knew she could have at least a few minutes to grieve for herself. To remember how steady and calm and inspiring he had been. Sometimes he reminded her a little of her own father, with how down to earth and real he was. In how private a man he was. So much more suited to the backstage than the spotlight; to directing than taking direction. He inspired trust and loyalty like no one else she knew, with his mix of passionate conviction and pragmatic realism. It was his inspiration and leadership that got Jed Bartlett elected. It was his example that helped Josh to recognize Santos's potential, and convince him to run. He had always been the most dedicated of them; the first to work in the morning, the last to leave at night. Sometimes he didn't leave. Like during Rosslyn. No one would ever say so, but he was the one that got the country through the night. He was the one that got her through that night. Donna would never forget sitting in the hospital worrying about Josh, waiting for word. At one point she was alone, the others were off somewhere, working or getting coffee. Leo walked into the waiting room and sat down next to her. He didn't say anything. He just handed her a handkerchief from his pocket, and held her hand, in the same way that her father had used to do when she was little. He seemed to know there was nothing he could say. That nothing would say she wasn't alone in her fear any better than just his presence. But then Leo was like that. When she had tried to give him back the handkerchief, he told her to keep it, "Women never seem to have a handkerchief when they need one, so keep it, and then you'll have one." he had told her. So she had kept it in her purse, and tonight, when she needed a handkerchief as much as she had ever needed one in her life, she had one.


End file.
